


cold resolve

by coronaofastar



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Background Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Comfort/Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, New Year's Resolutions, Platonic Relationships, Post-Book 2: Chain of Iron, Written Pre-Chain of Iron, folks i genuinely am at a loss for the tags this time send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28500069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coronaofastar/pseuds/coronaofastar
Summary: The New Year’s Eve celebration at the Institute found everyone in fine humor, drinks flowing, and Matthew conveniently missing. James found a Locking rune neatly cut on the balcony doors, and Matthew beyond them, a tow-headed, snowy figure out in the cold. “You know,” James said, as he joined Matthew at the balcony rail, gently bumping his shoulder, “my parents shut up the balcony doors because they thought it was too cold.”Matthew, coatless and dusted with snow enough to tell James he’d been out here for a while, smiled into the night. James had to wonder when he’d slipped away, and why he hadn’t noticed. “It’s cooler out here. Quieter.”“You’re shaking.” Matthew’s hands twitched on the railing, as though he was tempted to tuck them out of sight, but otherwise he stayed put. “Give me your arm.”There's a conversation that needs to be had, and it starts and ends on the Institute balcony.
Relationships: Cordelia Carstairs & Matthew Fairchild, Matthew Fairchild & James Herondale
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	cold resolve

**Author's Note:**

> TO EVERYONE WHO SAW MY USERNAME AND THOUGHT THIS WAS THE PROMISED PREQUEL/SEQUEL: i am so sorry. there is something in the works i swear and i think you'll like it but I wanted this posted first. three different docs all titled "cold resolve" later and here we are
> 
> shout out to Maggie ([@liviadovehallow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liviadovehallow/works)) who continues to be the MVP in 1) putting up with me and 2) promising to gently bully me if I didn't publish new work before January 3rd. everyone appreciate her this is an official request
> 
>  **cw: discussions of implied/referenced alcoholism and rehab.** this is and can be a huge part of people's lives so I've done my best to be respectful, but if any kind soul has improvement notes for me, please do! tread lightly, take care of yourselves.

The New Year’s Eve celebration at the Institute found everyone in fine humor, drinks flowing, and Matthew conveniently missing. James saw Cordelia suitably settled with Lucie, Ariadne, and Eugenia, the latter of whom seemed a touch nervous to be among society again but equally determined to be there all the same. Then, assured she was lacking neither company nor comfort, he went in search of his _parabatai._

He found a Locking rune neatly cut on the balcony doors, and Matthew beyond them, a tow-headed, snowy figure out in the cold. “You know,” James said, as he joined Matthew at the balcony rail, gently bumping his shoulder, “my parents shut up the balcony doors because they thought it was too cold.”

Matthew, coatless and dusted with snow enough to tell James he’d been out here for a while, smiled into the night. James had to wonder when he’d slipped away, and why he hadn’t noticed. “It’s cooler out here. Quieter.”

“You’re shaking.” Matthew’s hands twitched on the railing, as though he was tempted to tuck them out of sight, but otherwise he stayed put. “Give me your arm.”

Matthew obligingly rolled up his sleeve for James to draw a Thermis rune. “It isn’t the cold, I don’t think,” he said softly. James’s stele paused, continued. “I haven’t had a drink today.”

“I’m proud of you,” James said steadily. When he finished the Thermis rune, he rolled up Matthew’s sleeve further, drew an _iratze._ “You’re out here for a reason. Tell me why.”

Matthew exhaled. His breath steamed smoky-white in the cold. “Just to think. Stele.” He flexed his trembling fingers like they were cold and held out his hand for James’s stele.

“About?”

Matthew didn’t speak for a moment. He was steadier Marking James; maybe the _iratze_ had taken effect. Each curve and stroke of the Thermis rune came out textbook-neat. “New Year’s resolutions. Isn’t that something people do?”

“Possibly,” James allowed. He tucked his stele away, put an arm around Matthew and rubbed bracingly, even as the biting chill of winter faded with the rune’s effects. “Mine is to make sure you don’t catch your death of cold, apparently, if you’re going to be doing this more often.”

This startled a laugh out of Matthew, abrupt and surprised. “No, I don’t think I will be,” he said, sounding fond. “James, I - hm.”

James gave him a minute. Matthew was more likely to volunteer information than he’d been before, but sometimes he stopped himself, lacking either the right words or the ability to say them aloud. “You were going to say something,” he prompted, when Matthew did not continue on his own.

“I might leave London for a little while,” Matthew said, and hesitated. “Go to the, uh. The Basilias.”

James knew what it meant. For a moment, his vocal cords seized with all the things he wanted to say: _I love you. I’m proud of you. I’ve been worried about you._

What he said, eventually, in a surprisingly steady voice, was, “When do we leave?”

Matthew shook his head. “I’ll go alone.”

_That_ was the surprise. Matthew’s voice was soft, but it was hard not to feel a sting of rejection. A blister bubble of anxiety. James pushed it aside. _“Whither thou go, I goest,”_ he reminded Matthew.

Matthew turned so he was leaning against the railing, facing James. It was not bright enough to see the green in his eyes, and as such they were dark and unfathomable. “I’ve thought about it. Staying in London. But I don’t want that for - Angel, Jamie, this is going to be bad. Twelve hours without a drink and I already feel _ill,_ and I can’t - I will not worry everyone. I’ve done enough of that already.”

James blinked at him. _We’ll worry all the same,_ was on the tip of his tongue, but it did not seem like the right thing to say.

“They’ll look after me at the Basilias,” Matthew said. He seemed upset, but unusually determined, hunched in on himself almost imperceptibly.

“Tell me -” James hesitated, searching Matthew’s expression. “Tell me that you’re not going only because you think you’ll impose on us, Math.”

Matthew’s expression gave nothing away. But he had been more forthcoming as of late. “That...might be part of it,” he allowed. “But - you know the portrait of Dorian Gray, which records every sin?” When James nodded, Matthew smiled ruefully. “Let me hide some of mine. I’ve shown you too many already.”

“I love you,” James said. “Sins and all.”

“I know,” said Matthew, and he didn’t use to, and he only hesitated a little before he said it. James held out an arm and Matthew tucked back up beside him, both of them looking out over the grey, snowy streets.

“We _can_ take care of you, you know,” he said quietly.

“The Basilias,” Matthew said, and James knew not to argue it further.

There was the click of the balcony doors opening, and with it, a sudden rise in sound from the ongoing party. “By the Angel, are you both mad?” said Cordelia. Cast in the glow of the ballroom, she shone gold. “It’s positively freezing out. What are you doing?”

“Daisy,” James said, and both he and Matthew moved toward her at the same time. Cordelia gave them both an arch look and held up her arm, where the Thermis rune stood out stark and fresh. “I had the sense to Mark myself before coming out here,” she said dryly. “You’re both dusted with snow!”

“I’m pretending to be a powdered pastry,” said Matthew, as Cordelia joined them at the railing. Her hand found James’s, warm and sword-callused. “One of the simpler joys of man.”

“You’ll be a frozen pastry if you stay out here much longer,” Cordelia remarked. She put her head on Matthew’s shoulder, heedless of the snow. “The party’s nearly over, anyway. Matthew, you’re thinking.”

“I never think,” Matthew said promptly. “It keeps me young and beautiful.”

Cordelia straightened up just to hit him in the arm. “Tell me your thoughts, pastry.”

“James,” Matthew said. “Jamie, your wife is being a bully.”

There had been a point in time where Matthew was in love with Cordelia. James hadn’t been privy to this until after the fact, but they’d worked it out themselves and came out the other side closer friends than they had been. Cordelia loved Matthew, too; James was glad for it. He could not imagine being torn between his _parabatai_ and his wife.

“We were talking about New Year’s resolutions,” James said, squeezing Cordelia’s hand. “Share one of yours, Daisy.”

Cordelia made a thoughtful sound. “Oh - I haven’t given it much thought. To continue my studies in herbology, perhaps. It’s gotten rather sidelined what with - with everything. I used to be very good with perfumes.”

“There are plenty of books on herbalism in our room at the Tavern,” James said. “Christopher will be pleased to have someone to discuss with, I think. None of us know the least bit about it. Well - maybe Thomas.”

Cordelia laughed. “I hope he won’t be disappointed that none of my concoctions catch on fire.”

“He’ll be very disappointed,” said Matthew. “As am I. When I put on cologne, I always intend to be at the very least singed.”

“Oh, Matthew,” Cordelia said fondly. “Tell me yours, then.”

There was a moment of silence. James looked over at Matthew to find him looking up at the night sky, like he was steeling himself. “The Basilias,” he said. “That’s one of mine.”

Cordelia jerked up, startled. The word _Basilias_ meant more to her than it did to James, he knew. “What?”

“To not drink, and not sin,” Matthew said. He was smiling wryly at her, but there was an edge of nervousness to it. “Think I can manage it, Cordelia?”

Cordelia hugged him so fiercely that Matthew was thrown a half step back. He looked momentarily surprised, but his arms came up automatically and he hugged her back.

“I’m proud of you,” Cordelia said.

“You might want to wait until I’ve really gotten sober,” Matthew murmured, with a little quirk of his lips. He closed his eyes and seemed to sink into the hug, as though for a moment, Cordelia was holding him up. “Give it a day, at least.”

“I’m proud of you _now,”_ Cordelia insisted. There was a stubborn gleam to her eyes when she let Matthew go, though she was holding onto his hand. “Matthew. I really am.”

Matthew blinked, and then he smiled. Really, genuinely smiled. James realized, feeling startled, that he could count the number of times he’d seen Matthew smile like that on one hand over the past few years.

“Will you come home with us tonight?” Cordelia was saying. “We’ve finally tidied the townhouse enough for visitors.”

“I have to go home,” Matthew said, with a tired sort of amusement, “got an exciting night ahead of me. To begin with, I have several bottles of tremendously expensive alcohol to ritualistically pour down the drain.”

“Very rude of you to deny us the opportunity to show off our combined housekeeping efforts,” said Cordelia, but she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “I only came to find you and say goodnight. I’m off to find Lucie next.” With James she kissed him for a moment longer, lips lingering on his cheek, and he turned to press his forehead to hers. “I’ll meet you out on the front steps?”

“Yes,” James said, and with a little wave Cordelia was gone, reabsorbed into the orbit of chatter and revelry.

“When do you leave?” James asked, in the sudden quiet. “Do you know?”

“As soon as tomorrow, maybe the day after tomorrow.” Matthew rubbed at an eye and exhaled. He looked weary. Older, somehow. “I spoke with Uncle Jem - he was here, earlier, for a little while. Passing through. I didn’t expect things to be sorted this fast.”

The _parabatai_ rune twinged along with the slow, seeping dread pooling in James’s stomach. “No,” he said, in soft disbelief. “That’s so soon.”

Matthew looked at him, and he knew he was dreading it just as much. He didn’t have to say it. “It can’t be delayed,” he said miserably.

_This is what he needs,_ said a rational little voice over the rising cry in James’s mind that wailed, _Do not go where I cannot follow._ “I know, I know. Just - come here?”

Matthew burrowed into James’ arms, and James held him. Maybe it was the cold, but Matthew’s long-familiar brandy-and-cologne scent was gone. He could smell only winter air. “I’m going to miss you,” he murmured to Matthew. “But you can do this. I believe it.” Matthew inhaled and never seemed to exhale, and James smoothed a hand along his shoulder blades. “I love you,” he repeated, and waited until Matthew let go first.

The light snowfall was slowing. Inside, a cheer went up as heavy tolls rang across the city. Midnight, and the new year had officially rung in. James looked at his _parabatai,_ who was gazing out at the snowy rooftops as though spellbound. “I’ll be going home with Daisy,” he said softly. “You’ll be alright by yourself?”

“I will.”

“Good.” James took two steps toward the doors, then hesitated. “Maybe - stay here at the Institute, tonight? For my sake?”

“Jamie,” Matthew said patiently, and James saw that despite everything - despite the cold and the withdrawal and the way his hands were starting to shake again - Matthew was remarkably steady, as he always was. “We’ll be alright.”

The use of _we,_ not _I,_ was not lost on James. He took solace in it, breathed it in with a lungful of cold air. “I trust you,” he said, and meant it. “Goodnight,” heard it echoed, steeled himself and walked away.

He turned at the balcony doors to look back at Matthew, at the very last minute. There were things he wished he could protect Matthew from, but he was learning that just as Matthew could not go with him into the shadow realm, there were places James could not follow.

But they’d be alright, and he trusted that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> you know what time it is! time for me to be On My Bullshit *plonks down three feet tall soapbox bc I'm short*
> 
> First things first I'd like to say that as this has Not been a personal life experience, this is Non-Accurate and if I could do better, I would, and I tried. There are a lot more symptoms associated with withdrawal and some can be pretty dangerous and/or distressing. Matthew choosing to stop drinking on his own before actually seeking out medical care was probably not a great choice. Honestly, no one should have left him alone. For someone who has been consistently drunk for two years - yeah, that detox should probably be under medical supervision.
> 
> But I'd also like to point out that James, Cordelia et al are all still children and they don't always know the right way to handle things, nor should they be responsible for handling issues that they are Really Not Equipped for. To my second point - y'all, I thought about it. As much as I'd like to see the TLH cast help Matthew get sober for like, a multitude of reasons but mostly my unerring desire for friendships, the right choice would probably be THE BASILIAS, where they likely know how to treat withdrawal better than a pack of teenagers. At the same time, I don't want Cordelia, who has an alcoholic parent, to deal with another similar situation, and in terms of narrative I find it more compelling if it's Matthew who actively makes that choice to get better (on multiple levels). Take the social stigma out of rehab. Rehab is important. Also, again - Matthew's been drinking for like two years and that detox process should really, REALLY be in medical care.
> 
> other things that are not as important 1) normalize platonic intimacy but 2) every time James, Cordelia, and Matthew are in the same scene I end up accidentally flooding the scene with polyam vibes, so like,, if you would like to squint that's valid. 3) my other, smaller soapbox is that parabatai bonds can manifest separation anxiety and maggie has heard me shout way too much about this 
> 
> 4) I love u guys, and happy new year :))


End file.
